Percy
by CathyO
Summary: Two lonely people talk.


"_Percy Weasley_?!"

"Why not?"

"WHY NOT?!"

"Please stop repeating everything I say."

"That's just disgusting, absolutely disgusting," the very nude figure lounging on the giant, four-poster, gaudy Harlequin bed said in a thoroughly disgusted voice. 

"No, it's not!" the equally nude companion at his side insisted angrily.

"My god, Chang, you've completely ruined my appetite, now. Of all the men in the world, and even all the women, you lose your virginity to Percy 'I Have a Stick Shoved Up My Arse' Weasley?" Draco Malfoy asked.

"You asked for it, idiot. Next time, don't ask questions like that if you can't handle the answers," Cho said in a huff.

"Sweet Merlin, woman! I didn't expect the answer to be Percy Weasley! Anyone in their right mind would've thought the answer was Golden Boy Diggory. Heck, even 'I Like My Women Mentally Unstable' Corner or 'Look at My Deformed Forehead and Worship Me' Potter would be less shocking and nauseating!"

"Well, it wasn't, all right? Cedric and I decided to wait. But that kind of went down the shitter seeing how long I'll have to wait. And Michael was just a bit too creepy. I broke it off with him as quickly as possible and have no doubts about why Ginny broke up with him. I mean, I just got the feeling that he was cutting off locks my hair when I wasn't looking and making little dolls with them," Cho murmured.

"And Potter?" Draco asked a bit too eagerly.

"You really have a thing for Harry, don't you?"

"No, I don't!" Draco denied a bit too quickly.

"Fine," Cho shrugged, "Harry was as innocent as you can get. I would've felt as if I was raping him if I did anything other than kiss him."

"Potter was still a virgin at fifteen?" Draco smirked maliciously.

"I don't know, I never did anything other than kiss him," Cho replied.

"He must've been! Anyone with eyes could see how much he wanted to get into your hot little Ravenclaw robes. The only reason he didn't must've been because he didn't know what those feelings meant and our perfect, noble Gryffindor must've mistaken it for the noble feelings of anger and thirst for vengeance towards the Dark Lord," Draco said, practically preening himself with superiority.

Cho rolled her eyes, "Whatever rocks your boat, Malfoy."

"Oh, my boat is rocked, all right. But back to you, Chang, _please_ at least redeem yourself by saying you were naïve and innocent and Percy slipped some sleeping potion into your drink," he beseeched.

"No, you git. He didn't. And what's wrong with Percy? I mean he's smart, successful, hard-working, charming, and handsome," Cho said defensively.

"Ch-charming?! _Handsome_?! Holy Medusa, are we talking about the same Percy Weasley? Because the one I'm talking about is such a pompous ass that even his own family disowned him from their inbred, red-haired clan of idiots! For god's sake, even his mother can't stand the sight of him! And he's the biggest brown-noser I've ever had the displeasure to shake hands with. I remember my father saying that he was afraid that Weasley would drool all over his robes with the amount of arse-kissing he was doing. He's barely in his thirties and he already walks around as if he's screwing his twenty-year-old secretary on a regular basis! You must've inhaled too many book fumes from your years as a Ravenclaw if Percy Weasley is your idea of handsome and charming! It's an insult to people who are actually charming and handsome, myself being one of them!" Draco ranted indignantly.

Cho was about to point out that many of the things Draco described about Percy would also describe him perfectly, but decided it would be a fruitless waste of her energy.

"Hm…what can I say, then? I was fresh out of Hogwarts and in Healer apprenticeship. I was surrounded by people who were all at the top of their in the schools they went to and feeling horribly lonely and down on my luck. And Percy was a familiar face who had regular liaisons with the hospital because of his job at the Ministry. So we got together, it was just a short fling," Cho explained.

"_Familiar_?! How was he familiar? He was in another house and three years older! Were you and him getting it on behind Diggory and that Hufflepuff girl he was infatuated with?" Draco demanded, betraying his love for gossip.

"NO! And she was a Ravenclaw, not Hufflepuff!" Cho shot back, feeling completely offended. 

"Jeez, sorry! Ravenclaw!" Draco pacified.

"When Cedric died, everyone was in a craze. Dumbledore was off with Harry on some covert mission saving the world. The teachers were dealing with the students and Cedric's parents. So the loyal girlfriend of four years got shoved with the intern who knew so little that he told me Harry had killed Cedric. And that's how Percy and I knew each other. He was very nice, too. Comforted me for a good three hours as we came up with reasons why Harry would want to kill Cedric. And we came up with a pretty long list, too," said Cho, bemused, while stretching languidly under the dark red silk sheets.

"How sickly romantic," Draco sneered. "Hey, wait a minute! Hasn't Weasley been with that Ravenclaw girl ever since Hogwarts? I mean, aren't they married now? Were you dallying with a taken man, Chang?" Draco asked, his interest piqued again.

"No, you git, he and Penny had broken up because she couldn't stand the way he was treating his parents. I wouldn't ever take another Ravenclaw's boyfriend. We Ravenclaws have a strict sense of right and wrong," she replied haughtily.

"Sure, you do," Draco said in a tone laced with sarcasm. Cho decided not to ask just what he meant.

"So about you? Who was the lucky gal that divested our innocent Malfoy of his purity?" Cho teased with a grin. "Was it Pansy?"

"Hell no! Pansy is a _friend_ and Malfoys never ruin friendships by _casually_ _shagging_ friends. Not that you would know," he answered, clearly implying Cho was not a friend.

"Ouch, my ego, Malfoy," Cho said easily in a light-hearted tone that didn't reach her eyes, "So who was it?"

"Daphne Greengrass."

"Hm…good choice. She is very pretty, but isn't she a half-blood?"

"So? I was fourteen. I didn't care if she was half house-elf. She was one of the best looking girls at Hogwarts, and one of the best shags, and she knew how to use that to her advantage. All the boys in Slytherin wanted a go at her and I was the lucky one. Well, one of the lucky ones," Draco amended.

"Whatever happened to Daphne?" 

"She died."

"Oh…That's too bad, she was a sweet girl."

"No need to lie, she was as sweet as lemon juice."

"I don't speak ill of the dead. Who was it?" Cho asked carefully.

"How the hell can I remember? I'm not sure if I was even there," Draco said nonchalantly.

"Well, be glad it's at least over," Cho said quietly.

Draco sneered, "What have I got to be glad about? Most of my friends are dead, my mother's chatting it up with the Longbottoms at St. Mungo's, and the only way I saved my own skin was by betraying the few friends I had after those who chose to kill themselves instead of doing what I did. And the last time I saw or heard anything from my father was thirteen years ago when I left for fifth year. For all I know, he died twelve years ago in Azkaban. Yeah, if it makes you feel happier about yourself, I'm glad."

"Oh, stop wallowing in the self-pity and holier-than-thou attitude, Malfoy. Who hasn't lost someone? Hermione lost Ron, Fred lost both Angelina and George, hell, of all the Weasleys only three are left, and Neville—well, we know what happened to Neville, don't we?" Cho asked pointedly.

"Do you have a comeback for everything?"

"I'm just saying—"

"I get what you're saying," Draco interrupted, "and yes, I do know what happened to Neville. I murdered his wife and unborn child in cold blood, is that what you meant?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Cho murmured, taken aback by his bluntness.

"And then Longbottom walked in from his Minister for Magic duties, way ahead of schedule and at the most inopportune moment. He must've really wanted to see his dear wife. Instead, he finds me in his bedroom with my black hood and robes, about to flee, Lovegood quite dead at my feet, and launches a very nice Cremo at me," Draco said dramatically, like a Shakespearean character telling an audience how a murder went down.

"Draco—" Cho began, sitting up.

"I managed to Disapparate in time, but the damage was done. Luckily, the fire starts on the outside and burns its way to the inside, so I retained some mind to get myself to a Healer," he continued in a hushed voice, staring up at the high ceiling with wide eyes. "Of course, who should be the first Healer that pops into my mind other than the famous first love of the beloved Harry Potter? A renowned Healer who was working tirelessly on the _Good_ side, saving shattered bodies right and left while others were destroying them."

"Harry never lov—" Cho laughed, but was cut off by Draco again.

"But she couldn't have been the saint that everyone painted her to be, could she? I mean, she must've known something was up when Draco Malfoy, all dressed up in Death Eater attire, Apparates into her bathtub screaming in agony at a very ungodly time of the night. If not then, at least when she takes off his hood and robes to find his body sizzling with invisible flames. She must've deduced that—"

"I thought it was You-Know-Who punis—" she broke in tersely.

"Even if not then," Draco continued, Cho was not on the same level as Draco in getting her say in, "she should've known the truth when an hour later when an owl was sent to every single wizard, witch, squib, hag, vampire, werewolf, and god knows who else Longbottom thought of. I mean, how many wizards were Apparating about at that exact time with third degree burns all over? Despite the fact she knew I had just killed a pregnant woman and was on the _Evil_ side, she saved me and healed the burns. And when two Hit Wizards came to search the house the next day, she actually _concealed_ me, under penalty of an automatic life in Azkaban. Even though the Dark Lord fell a week after that, she has kept this secret for four years. My question is _why_? What has she to gain?" Draco turned his head slightly to stare up at Cho who was sitting with her back against the headboard and her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

"Don't you ever get tired of this, Draco?" she whispered, "four years and every time we go through some variation of this elaborate melodrama. It doesn't even matter where we start. We can be talking about the bloody weather and we'll always end up here. Aren't you tired?"

"Why?" Draco persisted.

"I've got to go, I have a lot of appointments tomorrow," Cho said hurriedly and started to get up, but Draco had reached up in a flash to grab her by the wrist, reflexes of a Seeker.

"Who are you in such a rush to see, Chang? Is it Potter?" Draco asked tauntingly.

"Harry, Harry, Harry! What is it with you and him? I broke up with him thirteen years ago and the only relationship I've had with him since is that I'm his Healer and Ginny brings in the kids every once in a while!" Cho cried out in exasperation.

"I can't believe he actually married her," Draco said so quietly it was as if he was thinking out loud.

"Of course he did! They've been together since he was in seventh year! Who else will he marry? _You_?" Cho asked acerbically while trying to tug her arm free from his bruising grasp.

Draco looked up quickly with something shocked and vulnerable in his eyes before he quickly veiled it with scorn, "What do _you_ know?"

"_Four years_, Malfoy. After four years of casual shagging, one learns quite a lot about whom they're casually shagging. Besides, whatever happened, Ginny is the one Harry loves. Anyone with eyes can see that. Five kids, thirty extra pounds, and eight years of marriage later, he still worships her. Now let go of my arm," Cho demanded.

"How little you know, though, despite the four years," he said disdainfully, still keeping a firm hold on her arm.

"Whatever little affair you two had was probably experimentation on his part," reasoned Cho.

"Yes, that little affair spanning from sixth year to when we were twenty? My, yes, Potter was a very thorough scientist wasn't he?" Draco spat out.

Cho stopped struggling and stared at him in disbelief, "Impossible."

Draco sneered knowingly.

"He was with Ginny," Cho argued.

"So? He only broke it off when he married her. Muttered some angst-ridden shit about how he loved her and he couldn't do this anymore, how terrified he was that he would lose her if she found out. I didn't actually take him seriously since he had been saying that ever since he and the Wee Weasley got together, but who would've thought he was serious this time! Never heard from him again, not so much as a Christmas card," he said lightly.

"Are you still in lo—I mean, do you still…_fancy_ him?" she asked awkwardly.

"Were you about to ask if I still love him? I never loved him; he was just a really good shag who happened to be my number one enemy. It was cathartic, almost, like I was avenging the Malfoy name by screwing him. Guess I just took it a tad too far. I was supposed to be the one who broke it off," Draco answered, laying on his side at a strange angle as he kept his hold on Cho.

"Sure. Every single time we get together you mention Harry at least a dozen times. But it's over. And I've got to go, Lee is waiting for me," Cho said and forcefully jerked her arm back, stumbling back lightly when she got her arm free.

There was a pause as Cho put her knickers back on and searched for her bra.

"Cho," Draco whispered, staring oddly at her as she continued dressing, "Lee's dead. He's been dead for two years."

"What? Of course he is, what a peculiar thing to say," Cho said absentmindedly as she sat back down on the bed to pull her pants on.

"You said that Lee was waiting for you."

"No, I didn't!" Cho whipped her head around to glare at Draco, who was sitting up.

"What did you say then?"

"I said that I had to go," she replied surely.

"And then you said that Lee was waiting for you."

"No," Cho corrected, "I said that…" Cho stalled and stared down at the bed.

"There is no one waiting for you, you live alone. You haven't even got a cat," Draco reminded her.

She turned her head and became engrossed in the act of buttoning and zipping up her pants.

"It's like a curse, isn't it? Having everyone you ever loved die," Draco contemplated.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cho said loftily, "where is my blouse?"

"Cedric Diggory, Vladimir Shutov, and Lee Jordan. Murder, Murder, Suicide. How can you not know?"

"I don't want to talk about this, it was just a slip of the tongue, habit, etceteras, let it go," Cho snapped, "where is my bloody blouse?!"

"Habit? From all the times you used Lee as an escape route? 'Sorry, Malfoy, can't talk about this, Lee's waiting for me!' or 'Well, I'd love to answer that question, but I've got to wake up early to go over wedding plans with Lee!' Yes, I can see how it becomes habit. Sadly, Lee hung himself rather than be used as a excuse by his fiancée to end uncomfortable post-coital conversation with Draco Malfoy," Draco's eyes narrowed as the phony sympathy dripped from his words.

"Shut up! It's not my fault that you somehow morphed into the Never-ending Conversationalist. Blah blah blah blah, do you _never_ shut up? What the fuck do you want from me? Guilt? Is that it? I feel guilty every single fucking day, is that enough? Yes, wonderful, I saved your life and in my stupidity decided to shag you and my fiancé found out and killed himself because of my actions. I'm so glad you realise that, Malfoy! Congratulations! Does Polly want a fucking cracker now?" Cho asked sarcastically. "Where is my fucking blouse?!" she screamed in rage.

Cho sat back down on bed and held her head in hands, breathing shallowly when she suddenly started sobbing. "Where is the fucking blouse?" she muttered through her sobs, "I have a busy day tomorrow. Lots of appointments."

Draco moved to sit next to her and held her, gently holding her head against his shoulder.

"I—just—want—my—blouse," Cho said brokenly, while clinging to Draco as if he was flotsam and she was a passenger on the Titanic.

"Shh…we'll find your blouse," Draco said tenderly, rubbing circles on Cho's back, a manner which fitted him as well as kindness would fit a boa constrictor who was strangling a victim to death.

"Why don't you just let things be? Why do you have to keep picking at it? Why don't you ever just SHUT UP anymore? All you used to do was sneer and smirk. Wham, Bam, Thank you Ma'am. What happened to that? Why'd you have to push me so far, Draco? Why today of all days? I have such a busy day tomorrow," she choked out as her sobbing turned into hyperventilation.

"I don't know, I guess I just got older. Perhaps I just like hearing my own voice. Or maybe it's just because I can't stand this place anymore. The house-elves don't make a single goddamn noise and I feel like I'm the sole occupant of a giant padded cell," Draco grumbled. 

"Invite your friends over, then, and stop harassing me. Just a shag, thankyouverymuch, didn't we verbally agree on that?" Cho offered as she continued struggling to refill her oxygen supply.

"By friends do you mean the people eating with the worms or the ones I put in Azkaban? Or do you mean the colleagues that I back-stab to earn money on the Stock Exchange?" Draco asked sardonically while still rubbing her back. 

Cho didn't reply and the only sounds were her asthmatic breathing. 

"Accept it, Cho. We're cursed. You haven't got anymore friends than I do. They're either dead or all married with kids or they were Lee's friends, or most likely both of the latter. Why don't you just cancel your appointments, take tomorrow off, and spend the night here. Do you realise we've never actually _slept_ together?" Draco smiled as Cho took her head off his shoulder to look at him, puzzled.

Cho slowly smiled back and they both laughed together, softly and uncertain at first, then escalating into hysterical laughter as Cho hiccoughed and Draco gasped for breath, clutching at their stomachs.

When they stopped laughing, both of them were laying side by side across the bed, their legs dangling off the edge.

"You know what I've always wondered?" Cho asked, staring up.

"What?" Draco asked back, staring at the intricately painted ceiling as well.

"Why a Cremo? Why not an Avada Kedavra? Cruciatus?" she whispered reverently as her eyes fell on the scene of Psyche lifting Ero's mask.

"I think I know why," Draco answered in equal reverence, "it was the easiest. It rolled off the tongue, has only two syllables. Avada Kedavra has six. Cruciatus has four, same with Imperio. And I think he wanted to see me suffer. Avada Kedavra would've too easy on me. Some kind of instant revenge. It was so fast. One moment I was turning around because I heard a creaking sound and the next he was standing in the open door, staring at Lovegood, then at me, and the next thing I know I've Apparated inside your tub, getting a good idea of what Hell is like."

"That charm should be banned. It's a Curse. It tortures and kills."

"Well, it can be lifted by someone else. That's why it isn't counted as one. You can't do that with Cruciatus or Imperio. Only the person casting them can stop it," Draco explained.

Cho laughed hollowly, "It can be lifted by someone else, but if you hadn't gotten proper treatment as quickly as you had, you would've rotted to your death. Your body was charred barbecue. Some chefs actually use that spell to cook animals alive, to ensure the meat is tender and fresh. It's disgusting."

"Why did you save me? And why didn't you turn me in when you found out what I had done, especially when the penalty for you was life in Azkaban?" Draco asked again.

Silence loomed over them as Cho fought with herself for the answers to the question.

"I don't really know," she conceded cautiously, "When I got the owl, you were pretty much in stable condition. I could've turned you in, it wasn't as if I was romanticizing the whole thing, hiding a dangerous outlaw and all that. What you did was something even beasts don't do. For what? Luna wasn't even an Auror. You killed two innocent people for a cause that everyone, including you, knew was doomed. I don't know. I guess I was tired of it all. Maybe I thought you didn't deserve to spend the rest of your life in Azkaban. You were only twenty-three. The war was over; Luna was dead, why waste another life? I was just sick of everything, of all the dead friends and family I had to bury, that I couldn't save. And the bodies that I saved, but the minds that were damaged so badly they were as good as dead. You were like the last chance to save myself. The last soul that I could redeem so mine wouldn't burn in Hell. And you wouldn't escape unpunished, I already knew that. I felt that if I saved you, somewhere a little person keeping tab of the all the good and bad in the world would finally balance it out."

"But I did escape unpunished," Draco reminded her.

"No, you didn't. And neither did I."

Draco reached for her hand and clasped it in his, their fingers entangled. 


End file.
